


(and miles to go)

by Issay



Series: Of Death and Transfiguration [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Spies & Secret Agents, angst-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second time it happens is, in a way, so much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(and miles to go)

The second time it happens is, in a way, so much worse.

It was just a routine mission, in and out, kill the mark, grab the thumb drive, disappear into the night. It's the bread and butter of spy games, really. Even an agent after their orientation could successfully finish a mission like that so when Arthur got too twitchy and after begging, bugging, pestering and, finally, ordering Merlin to find him someone to shoot, it seemed like a good option. Unknowingly to Harry, Lancelot was his shadow, silently following him all around Florence.  
Nothing could go wrong.  
“I've lost eyes on him,” says Roxy and Merlin freezes over his keyboard, eyes frantically scanning the CCTV feed. Indeed. Arthur entered the warehouse and they lost visuals.  
“Standby,” he says to Lancelot, his voice not indicating that there's something wrong. It's probably nothing. It's a simple mission. Nothing could go wrong, he repeats to himself over and over again as Arthur fails to make contact and lenses in his glasses remain inactive. Merlin tries to activate them remotely. He fails.  
“It appears that something inside blocks the satellite signal,” Merlin says to Lancelot. “Go inside, Roxy, but be careful.”  
Before Lancelot gets out of the car, warehouse explodes. Scared pigeons scatter around the deep blue of Florentine sky.

“Fuck. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, fuck.”

Eggsy hates debriefing. Deeply hates.  
It's so unnecessary, he knows perfectly well that Merlin, Nimue or Excalibur – whoever was on the comms during the mission – have full picture of what happened. So all he should have to do is sign the fucking protocol and go home (and most definitely it should be someone else doing the writing. He's good at shooting shit, not putting it on paper), right? But no, he needs to go to Merlin's underground lair and apparently debrief the man. And all he really want to do is go home, kiss Harry and maybe get fucked on the kitchen table. Is it really that much to ask?  
“What's up, bruv?” Eggsy asks from the doorway with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Then he gets slightly confused because he thought the meet was with Merlin only so why are Lancelot and Mordred in the room?  
“Eggsy. Sit.”  
Merlin looks like he hasn't slept in three days (which he didn't, ever since the blast and the report from Florence that no body has been found in the torched remains of the warehouse). He looks pale and has black circles under eyes which is never a good sign. Roxy looks sick. But it's Mordred who really gives it away, Mordred and his fucking black armband.  
That's when it hits Eggsy. He hasn't noticed it before and yet it was there all along, right in his face.  
The flags were at half-mast.

In the end, Eggsy punches Merlin and leaves for Florence within the hour.

“Took you long enough. But you won't find anything here,” says a familiar looking blond man with piercingly blue eyes who stands next to Eggsy, looking at what used to be a gun running warehouse in the middle of one of the most beautiful places in Southern Europe. “They're long gone.”  
“Who?”  
Man smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. Instead of answering, he reaches to his inside pocket – Eggsy almost pulls a gun on the man then and there – and hands him a manila envelope.  
“MI6 says: happy hunting.”

And a hunting it is. Eggsy goes after the group – a small yet effective splinter from the newest Middle-eastern terrorist organization because apparently Al-Qaeda isn't radical enough for some head cases. He has to give them that – they're fast. And very well trained. He misses them by the minutes in Cairo and puts a fist though a wall when he sees that the abandoned coffee pot is still warm. In Aquaba, he manages to catch one of them – a scrawny little kid who plays hard to crack but after three buckets of ice cold water poured at his face, he almost sings. Eggsy has his confirmation that they have Harry and want to use him as a trading card of sorts with British government.  
Idiots.  
Then it's Al Hawiyah. He knows where to look for them but of course, his luck, that's also where Saudi police decided that they don't like British undercover agents from private intelligence agencies on their ground. He stays in custody for three days before Merlin manages to get him out.  
“Get in,” Roxy smiles at him from a car parked in front of the police station. Eggsy hasn't slept in three days, stinks of prison and really wants to shoot something. But Harry comes first. He always comes first.  
“Where to?”

It all ends in An Nasiriyah.  
“No mistakes, Rox,” says Eggsy, reloading. “In and out, kill any hostiles on sight. Out before the rest of those fuckers are back.”  
“Copy,” Lancelot smiles wickedly. “You realize it's probably gonna go belly up in the first minute?”  
Galahad shrugs.  
Surprisingly, it doesn't go south that soon – they manage to get into the apartment terrorists are holed up in, kill the first two and find Harry. Bruised, bloody, hands painfully tied behind his back – but alive. And with an AK-47 pointed at the back of his head.  
“Stop! I shoot!” manages the man clad in something that looks like a black pajamas. Unimpressed Eggsy pulls the trigger and the man's brain paints the wall vivid red, well, that's how you deal with terrorists. You just don't negotiate.  
“Took you long enough,” mutters Harry as they untie him and help him up. Eggsy half carries him out of the apartment and into the car, not trusting his own voice to speak. He just breathes. Under the smell of unwashed clothing, blood, grime and sweat, Harry still smells like Harry – warm and earthy and alive.  
That's all that matters for the moment.

The final result of it is: three broken fingers, ten broken toes, lack of ten fingernails, lack of ten toenails, concussion, five broken ribs, fractured collarbone, at least seven torn muscles, twelve new scars, dehydration, malnutrition, probable PTSD.  
Arthur and Galahad are out of rotation for the next three months.

If one of the nurses is scarred for life after coming in to check on Arthur's vitals and finding Galahad, merrily sucking their boss' cock and having his arsehole stuffed with three (unbroken) fingers of said boss, no one says anything.

“I am never letting you out of my sight again,” mutters Eggsy when Medical finally releases Harry into his care and they go home. “And you're banned from missions. From now on you're going to sit on your ass in your comfy, posh office and debrief people. And stamp shit. Not a thing more.”  
Harry laughs weakly and lies back on the pillows while Eggsy covers him with soft, light blankets.  
“Right now I feel like you might be right,” he says with a sigh and reaches out to his younger lover. “But don't think I won't argue with you about it later. Now come here.”  
Eggsy carefully wraps himself around Harry, breathing him in. It's calm and comfortable now, just being with the man he loves and not having to worry about anything. Almost enough to make him forget about the hell of previous two weeks.  
Almost.  
“I thought I lost you again. I thought...that what I did before...that it came with a vengeance. For you. And I really, really don't want to live through that feeling ever again, Harry.”  
Harry's fingers, still stiff and bandaged, find Eggsy's hand and squeeze painfully.  
“You know I'll probably die before you, my darling boy,” he mutters warmly, Eggsy's breath is hot and most on his neck. “That's the way things are.”  
“We're Kingsman. We defy the way things are supposed to work, remember?”  
Indeed, they are.

**Author's Note:**

> The series was finished, this wasn't planned. No idea what happened.
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://issayscorner.tumblr.com/)


End file.
